Of Single Days Gone By

Perfect. Everything about his personality is what I would wish for in any friend, & any potential bed-mate. He’s intelligent & talks in a tone edged with wisdom. He is clearly a thinker. Though what is it that doesn’t sit quite right when he tells me with enthusiasm: “Oh, absolutely! You’re so right there – nobody else can make you happy, it’s down to the individual!”?

I struggle to tell whether his zeal comes from finding someone who shares his opinion on self-fulfilment, or whether he is aiming to flatter me.

“You seem as though you have it all figured out.” he says, with just a hint of awe that softly jabs the pit of my stomach. I feel embarrassed. I do have it figured out, don’t I? 

On paper, he is perfect. He ticks all the boxes. So why, oh why, can’t I appreciate how pleasant our evening has been; how refreshing it is to speak with someone who is on the same wavelength? He clearly is, yet I constantly have this underlying feeling that something is missing. He puts me at ease, yet I think that ease is exactly the problem. He does not challenge me. I feel no stir of apprehension. There is no niggle of doubt that this person may prove me wrong. He would simply concur & discuss the point further, as though it were fact.

I’d like to explore. I’d love for someone to have a point of view that was new & exciting. Sure, you have to share opinions & views on some things – there must be common ground – but wouldn’t it be wonderful for someone to come along & say “Well Chlo, what about this…” & completely blow my mind, or even divulge something that would get me a little riled – just a little though.